


Picking Scabs

by madelegg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, emetophobia warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelegg/pseuds/madelegg
Summary: Aivend wakes up from a nightmare about the time he spent as a captive of Those Who Slither. This time, he dreams of his old cellmate.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Aivend Magus Lethei, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1
Collections: The Privilege of Loving Him





	Picking Scabs

When Aivend opened his eyes, he thought perhaps he hadn’t. The room was so dark, with heavy curtains drawn over the scant moonlight of barely past midnight, that his eyes refused to adjust, though he blinked over and over again. His heart, pounding from the nightmare he thought he was still in, started thumping harder, making him gasp for breath like he’d burst through the surface of the pitch black ocean. But above the water, he still couldn’t breathe.

His hands searched frantically around him, but his mind replaced every reality with something from his dream. The 1500 thread count Almyran cotton sheets turned to threadbare blankets in his hands. The dual-layered, pillow top, Faerghus King mattress became stretched canvas over a cot frame. And beside him, the hand that grabbed his wrist gently…

_ Silkie? _

“Aivend? Darling, what is the matter?” Lorenz’s quiet voice shrank the room around them, making Aivend’s world as small as the space between his ear and his lover’s mouth.

Aivend groaned and tried to slow his breathing, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Lorenz’s hand on his wrist felt tight and heavy. He could hear the chains of his shackles moving as he lifted his free hand to his face, which dripped with sweat. His stomach lurched and he swallowed rising bile in his throat.

Lorenz grew more concerned, his concern palpable in the silent bedroom. He sat up more and put his hand to Aivend’s brow. He was warm, but it was hard to tell if he was feverish. He cupped his cheek and pulled his head in gently to his chest.

“Aivend, my dearest, I am here,” he cooed. “Listen to my voice. Your love, your Lori. We are in bed. We are safe. Can you hear me?”

Aivend moaned in response, squeezing his eyes shut, only for a scene to flash behind his eyelids: stone walls, an iron door, the sharp smell of feces and waste.

_ Quit picking at em, Silkie. You’re just makin’ yourself bleed. _

His little cell mate’s eyes were huge, unnaturally bulging in his hollow sockets as he wasted away in Aivend’s mind year after year. He was barely more than a skeleton in his memory now, pale and drained of blood.

_ I can’t stop. My brain won’t let me. _

_ Whaddya mean it won’t let you? It’s your brain. Just stop doing it. _

_ I said I can’t. _

“Aivend, talk to me. Say my name, darling. You are safe, come on dearest, say something.”

Aivend’s eyes started stinging and he slapped his hands over his mouth before a wretched sob came tearing out of his chest. He pulled his hair, pulled his knees up, curling into himself. Lorenz pulled him in, wrapping him up entirely in his arms, stroking his hair, rocking him like a baby. He rubbed his back, encouraging him to breathe slower, though it took a long time before he could manage that.

When he did catch his breath, every exhale was a whimper or a sob and Lorenz dabbed his tears and wiped his dripping snot away with the sleeve of his nightgown.

“Good boy, good boy,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well, my dearest.”

Aivend sniffled and groaned and struggled to breathe until his body finally started to settle as it wore itself out. He was dizzy from hyperventilation and stars flickered in his peripherals, making him feel nauseated. When he finally spoke, he only got out one word behind his hands.

“Bathroom.”

He suddenly slid out of bed, his bare feet slamming into the hardwood floor like he’d fallen, and stumbled in the general direction of their bathroom door, pushing it open and trying to feel his way in. Lorenz rushed after him, holding him up and guiding him to the toilet where he collapsed onto his knees and bent over it. He made pitiful heaving noises, his breathing erratic through his mouth and nose, but nothing came up.

Lorenz pulled Aivend’s hair back just in case, a hand on his shoulder for support as Aivend gripped the bowl. When Aivend stopped heaving, Lorenz filled the deafening silence with more gentle coos.

“Good boy,” he said. “You let it out if it wants out. It’s almost over.”

Aivend closed his mouth and sniffled, his body shaking. When he felt convinced that he wasn’t going to throw up, he leaned against Lorenz again and Lorenz pulled him into safety.

“You are safe,” Lorenz said, over and over. “You are okay, my love, my darling. Nothing can hurt you. You are safe.”

Aivend nodded a little and Lorenz squeezed him tighter, knowing his husband could finally hear him.

“We will rest here for as long as you need to, and when you are ready, I will turn on all the lamps.”

Aivend nodded to that too, desperate for light, though the curtains were drawn back enough in the bathroom for his eyes to finally make out shapes. He could see the toilet below him, his hands in front of his face, and Lorenz’s arms around him. The frilly collar of Lorenz’s nightgown was sticking out in front of his face. He turned his head into Lorenz’s chest and took a deep breath. Lorenz stroked his hair.

Lorenz did not ask what had woken him up; if that was something Aivend wished to share, he would do so at his own pace. If he chose to try and forget it, Lorenz would be happy to simply chase those memories away with him and replace them with better ones. If he could, Lorenz would take all those dark spots from his past away so they could never hurt his beloved again.

But even magic could not do such things, and Aivend was too strong to want to give up the nightmares that shaped him, so Lorenz could only offer himself as a port in the storm and hope Aivend would find shelter in him.

Aivend slowly lifted his head from Lorenz’s chest, feeling its weight more than ever before, and looked blearily at his husband. Using his long, elegant fingers, Lorenz combed his hair from his brow and kissed it.

“My good man,” he cooed, kissing him again. “My Aivend.”

He pressed his lips again and again to Aivend’s forehead, filling his ears with the sounds of little smooches. Aivend’s hands, at first dangling limp at his sides, slid up Lorenz’s legs, where he gripped the soft fabric in two big fistfuls and clenched it, white knuckled.

“Loriiii…” he moaned.

Lorenz placed one last kiss on his forehead, then wrapped his arms around Aivend and squeezes tight.

“You are safe, my love,” he whispered. “You will always be safe here.”


End file.
